


Of Ties & Goodbyes

by TwisterMelody



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, Post Reichenbach, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 02:29:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwisterMelody/pseuds/TwisterMelody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is back after the events of the great fall. He's done all he's had to do, and is getting things back to normal. Well, as normal as things are for Sherlock Holmes. When the day of John & Mary's wedding arrives, he reflects on what was and what might be, and the power he has to change that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Ties & Goodbyes

**Author's Note:**

> This is told mostly from Sherlock's point of view, and a bit from John's. Enjoy!

The crisp chill of the late afternoon air seemed like it was creeping through the windows, a blanket of sweeping coldness to follow the sinking sun. The church was a lovely little thing. Fairly small, yes, but filled with the scent of fresh roses and illuminated by the golden rays of the sun.  
  
In the pews there was cheerful chatter and laughter from nearly everyone in attendance as they awaited the big moment. Minus one consulting detective, that is, who happened to be cursing wildly in a losing battle with a tie.  
  
Alone in the little back room of the church, he tried and tried again to get the damned thing to even remotely resemble what it was supposed to. He watched in the mirror as he twisted and fiddled with it, turning and looping over and over, before he finally yanked it from his neck. He threw it to the floor with a frustrated groan and ran his fingers through his curls.  
  
"You okay?" John leaned on the door frame, arms crossed, with no attempt to hide to amused look on his face. He was dressed in his own grey suit, tie in an infuriatingly perfect knot.  
  
"Fine!" Sherlock leaned over and swooped up the offending fabric. "This bloody thing is the problem!"  
  
John shook his head and smiled fondly. "Oh for God's sake, here," he leaned away and walked towards Sherlock, grabbing the tie from his hands, "let me help you." He tossed the fabric around his neck and started adjusting it with ease.  
  
"I could have figured it out," Sherlock muttered.  
  
"Mm. By that time the wedding would have been over," John lightly teased. "Besides, it'd be a shame to get married without my best man now, wouldn't it?"  
  
Sherlock's mouth twitched at the thought.  
  
Many months had passed between the time where he had jumped off of St. Bart's to the time where it was safe to finally come back to London, to 221B, to John. Too many months had passed, if one were to ask Sherlock himself.  
  
John hadn't let Sherlock come back into his life as easily has he had hoped. There had been fighting and flat out refusal to speak to him at all. Sherlock was beyond frustrated that things couldn't go back to as they were before. Of course, that might not have happened anyway.  
  
In the time of his absence, John had met Mary. She was an intelligent woman with bright eyes, and John had fallen for her in no time at all. Mary Morstan - the woman who brought life back into John Watson's life after the darkening fall. Even her personality was one that Sherlock himself took a liking to, and had decided that she was indeed deserving of John, unlike his past girlfriends. She adored John and John was so blissfully happy in her presence.  
  
Mary admired Sherlock and helped pick up the pieces upon his return, remnants of the life he was forced to leave behind. Finally after a bit of time, he had John back, and all was well. Or, at least it was as well as one could have hoped for. If not for her, he might not be standing here today with his best friend, and that was a thought he didn't find pleasant in the least.  
  
John pulled the tie into a knot and patted it against Sherlock's suit. "There," he said, "good to go. Ready?"  
  
Sherlock nodded once in agreement. "Yes."  
  
Mary was beautiful in her long white gown. Her blue eyes nearly sparkled, and the fading light of the sun turned her hair golden. She smiled and John smiled in their exchanging of vows. Light sniffles were heard throughout the crowd, even after the sealing kiss.  
  
Sherlock found it tedious to stand in one place quietly, but he did as he was asked. He owed that much to John. That and wearing a hateful tie, anyway. He quietly scanned the crowd, gaining information that may or may not be useful in the future. He smiled politely in the group photos as he was asked to as well. He felt a bit out of place though, and saw no point in having people attempt to socialize with him when he could be doing other things instead. For instance, he could be setting up a new experiment, or solving cold case files, or even just getting takeaway and watching crap telly with - oh. Right. He'd nearly forgotten.  
  
There'd be no more of that.  
  
A crowd was gathering around the newlyweds in congratulations before the reception began. He watched for a moment before turning to leave. To go where, exactly, he didn't know. But he was sure he could find something out there. Before he could get very far, a hand firmly grabbed him by the arm. He turned to find Mary looking up at him, determination written across her face.  
  
"And where do you think you're going?"  
  
"I'm not entirely sure. Perhaps to burn this tie, or to commit a crime, or to find a motorbike to the liking's of the one your cousin over there stole about two weeks ago. Haven't decided yet."  
  
Mary glanced back at said cousin for a split second before turning again to Sherlock. "Oh no you aren't," she began, "you've still got a speech to give. Besides, you said you'd stay. You can't go back on that promise now."  
  
"I said I'd stay for the wedding, which I did. Not..." he waved his hand in the general direction of the babbling crowd. "This. I'm not needed here, therefore have no reason to stay. Good -"  
  
"He needs you," Mary cut in, nodding her head towards John who was alone in the midst of her relatives. John's side hadn't been completely full, as there weren't that many people he had gotten close to. "Stay. Please?"  
  
Sherlock sighed before walking back to the crowd.  
  
When it came time for his speech, it started off nice, honestly it did. But, with Sherlock being Sherlock, it turned into a rambling deduction about random members of the crowd. There was near silence in the room when it was over, shared with stares of disbelief. Sherlock sat back down and turned towards John who had scrubbed a hand over his face. Sherlock looked around quickly and blinked at John. "Not good?"  
  
John sat there blankly for a moment before he just started laughing at the entire situation. Chatter started back up and everything was back to normal once more. Though, the entire thing made Sherlock feel even more out of place. There had been dinner and cake and champagne. Sherlock quickly spat out remarks at anyone who talked to him. Well, nearly anyone. Molly, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade were all in attendace as well. In their presence he wasn't purposely agitating. They had actually socialized with others, as did John, leaving Sherlock alone. There were a couple of people though who had kept trying to entice him in some way, though he clearly wasn't interested.  
  
One woman in particular just wouldn't give up, claiming the sips of champagne had made her feel 'daring' and that he should have some himself to 'loosen up and have some fun.' He finally rounded on her angrily.  
  
"You can't blame the alcohol on your being an absolute moron who doesn't understand the extremely simple concept of 'not interested.' If you prefer, you could have an IQ test taken as proof, though it'd be pointless as you're far too ignorant to understand intelligence of any kind."  
  
She stomped away and he smiled to himself, pleased with the outcome of certainty that she'd finally leave him be. The peace only lasted for a moment though as an angry woman with dyed rust-tinted hair came up to him. Her face was familiar but tired, and she smelled of alcohol, not just champagne. It only took him a fraction of a second to realize who it was - Harry.  
  
"Oi!" She called out to him, "What gives you the right to talk like that?"   
  
He merely blinked at her. "You're drunk."  
  
She smirked. "Oh round of applause for the genius here. Why are you even here?"  
  
He tried to keep a civil tongue, he tried his best, really. "I was invited, obviously," he stated with annoyance. "I was _wanted_ at this ridiculous display of emotions. You, on the other hand, were invited purely because of relation. What a pity that is, Harriet."  
  
She gawked at him. "No," she half laughed, "I think I know why you're here. To have a point proven to you."  
  
He rolled his eyes but stood to listen to her tirade. He had nothing better to do, after all. "And that would be?"  
  
"My little brother is just fine without your so-called friendship. My God, can you even call it that? It's one sided, isn't it, with John doing all the work?" She shook her head. "And you. Bloody genius you are. Forced him to watch you die, leaving him all torn up like he was, then come waltzing back in like nothing happened!"  
  
"I had to." He didn't owe her an explanation, he didn't owe her _anything_.  
  
"No you didn't," she said. "Look at yourself. You treat everyone around you like dirt and expect them to drop everything on a dime for you. That's not how it works. You've dragged him around these parts like an old stuffed toy and put him in harm's way God knows how many times!"  
  
Sherlock still said nothing.  
  
"Oh, silence from you finally, eh? Good. Listen here oh great detective," she started. "He would have had a perfectly good life had you never met him. He wouldn't have been torn up or anything like that as it were. He didn't need you in his life then and certainly not now. Say goodbye to whatever messed up friendship you thought you had, 'cause it never mattered anyway. All of this," she said as she gestured toward the lit room with happy people in it, "is proving just that. Better off you leave now, there's no point in your being here." She smiled smugly at him and walked off.  
  
Sherlock took a deep breath, glancing around the room, John nowhere to be found. He never cared what people thought, besides a very select few that could be counted on one hand, that is. Emotions, what tedious things they are. _Harry may have had a point_ , he thought to himself, _he may be happier without me interfering_. He stood for a moment longer, and his decision was made. He quickly walked out the doors of the church without looking back.

* * *

  
There had been a lot of socializing. Mary's family was much larger than his own, many more friends, too. They had all wanted to get to know John throughout the evening. Every time he tried to catch his breath, someone else had taken his attention. He'd barely even managed to speak to his own guests, though thankfully they didn't seem to mind. When he finally got the chance to step away for a moment, he tried to seek out Sherlock. They hadn't spoken much that day, and he'd lost sight of him after the speech. He finally found Lestrade instead.  
  
"Congratulations!" Lestrade smiled and clapped him on the back.  
  
"Erm, thanks. I - sorry, thank you," John smiled at him, "I was wondering though, have you seen Sherlock?"  
  
Lestrade shook his head. "Not in a while, no, not since they started handing out drinks."  
  
"Right." John hesitated. "Sorry, it's just..." He never actually found the words for what he was attempting to say, but it didn't matter. Lestrade just nodded and patted him on the back.  
  
 _Where's he gone off to now?_  
  
A moment later, Harry came up to him. "No need to thank me," she said.  
  
John could smell the alcohol on her breath and steeled himself for whatever stupid statement she was about to give out. "For what?"  
  
"Getting rid of your problem, of course."  
  
"My problem? What problem?"  
  
"That no good git you hang around with. Told him what I thought of him, and he left. Don't think he'll be coming around no more." She smiled at him.  
  
"You _what_?"  
  
"No need to thank me," she repeated.  
  
"Thank you? Why the _hell_ would I do that?" His voice raised over the music playing, so he quickly lowered it again. "Just what in the hell do you think you're doing?"  
  
"I just -"  
  
"No," he stated. She had no right to tell off any of his guests, let alone his best friend, when she couldn't even be sober for one of the most important days of his life. "You know what? I don't want to hear it. I want you to leave. Now."  
  
"John you can't be -"  
  
" _Now_ ," he nearly growled.  
  
She balled up her face and swiftly walked away. John paid no attention to her, he ran out of the doors of the church into the cold darkened night, hoping by some miracle that Sherlock would still be there. Thankfully, he was. He found him sitting on a lone bench, fiddling with his tie again. John breathed a sigh of relief and sat himself next to him.  
  
"You should be inside," Sherlock said coldly without looking at him, letting his hands drop down before clasping them together.  
  
"And leave you out here? No, don't think so."  
  
"Surely your new bride wouldn't want you to be missing your own party."  
  
"I've been in there talking to strangers all night," he replied. "I finally had a moment and tried to find _you_ , only to learn my sister is drunk. Again."  
  
The corner of Sherlock's mouth quickly turned up and then fell again. "I could have predicted that."  
  
"Yeah, well." John clasped his own hands together and joined Sherlock in looking up at the shining night sky.  
  
"She was right," Sherlock said after a moment. "In the midst of her drunkenness she made a few rather good points."  
  
John scoffed. "Being?"  
  
"Your life might have been better off had I not come into it. There's no way of certainly knowing that of course, but the facts are there, and it's possible." He paused and let out a breath. "And possible you'd be better off if I were to leave now, to not bother you again. You'll have a nice life of course, live happily in some boring cottage, and your life won't be endangered by me anymore." Sherlock turned to him, finally.  
  
John stared at him open-mouthed at what he was hearing. "Surely you can't mean that," he said. "After everything we've been through, Sherlock, _everything_ , you're willing to walk out again just like that? Because of Harry?"  
  
"The facts are all there."  
  
"Like hell they are!" He scrubbed his hand over his face. "You're my best friend, Sherlock. You made me... Better," he breathed. "You can be a git and I know I can be, too. But I wouldn't have traded anything for the world, and I doubt you would have, either. Harry doesn't know a thing, not one thing. And if you think you can just leave again you're an idiot."  
  
"As are you."  
  
"Good. Perfect couple of idiots we are." Sherlock chuckled lightly at him.  
  
"I did what I had to do. I never meant -"  
  
"I know," John said, resting his hand on Sherlock's back. "It's fine." Sherlock narrowed his eyes at him. "Well not _fine_ , but we've talked about this. We could discuss it until we're blue in the face, and that wouldn't change the fact that I want - no - I  _need_ you in my life, you idiot. You're not leaving again."  
  
Sherlock remained silent, but it seemed he got his point across.  
  
"Come back inside with me, it's freezing out here."  
  
John stood up and waited for Sherlock. The man simply looked at him.  
  
"John, I -"  
  
"Nope. Come on." He pulled him up by the arm and led him inside.  
  
A couple of more hours passed involving a lot of dancing. Sherlock sat out, refusing anyone who offered. He knew how to from watching others, but simply cringed at the idea of mingling with the people there. He instead sat quietly at the table after Mary had pulled John onto the dance floor. Soon enough, Mary was in front of him, holding her hand out.  
  
"No."  
  
"Just one?"  
  
Sherlock sighed. He really did take a liking to Mary, otherwise he would have still been in his chair. A slower song played through the room as they danced, Sherlock moving tensely. John was near them dancing with a little girl who was around four or so, smiling happily.  
  
"Just this one. No more," he said.  
  
"That's all I asked for," she smiled. "Harry was wrong, you know."  
  
"No one can be certain of that."  
  
"I can."  
  
The song eventually ended and Sherlock made his way back to the table. He was met with the beaming grin of Mrs. Hudson and he couldn't help but smile back at her. He nearly asked after Molly and Lestrade, only to find they were dancing together as well.  
  
The night drew to a close and everyone began to make their way home. There were only four left, and John and Mary were saying their farewell's to Mary's sister. Sherlock stood with his hands clasped behind his back.  
  
"Right. Well," he began, "congratulations and... All that. Mary." He turned and nodded once. "Goodbye, John."  
  
John suddenly seized him by the arm. He looked at him sharply.  
  
"No. Don't you ever say those words to me again. _Never_ , do you understand?"  
  
Sherlock stood for a moment. He opened his mouth to speak, but lost his words when John pulled him into a tight hug.  
  
"This is not goodbye," he said, barely above a whisper. Sherlock hugged him back and John spoke again. "No more goodbyes. I'll be back in a week or so, we'll go and, I don't know, catch a murderer or something and grab some Chinese after if you've got a case, eh?" Sherlock nodded against John's head. John patted him on the back and broke the hug, smiling at him. "And since you've been fighting with it all day. _now_ you can take the tie off."  
  
"Thank God," Sherlock muttered. John just chuckled at him again.  
  
Mary came over to them both, giving Sherlock a quick embrace and thanking him for coming.  
  
"See you later then?"  
  
"Yes, of course. I'll see you later," he replied.  
  
"Good. Glad that's settled. Oh and Sherlock?"  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"Text me during my honeymoon and you're a dead man."  
  
Sherlock grinned as he walked out to hail a cab. In the backseat he finally loosened the tie around his neck, finally able to breathe normally. An empty flat awaited him at Baker Street. He frowned at the thought. He sighed and pulled out his phone.  
  
 _Bored. SH_  
  
 _What did I JUST say? JW_  
  
 _Surely you couldn't have consummated the marriage that quickly. SH_  
  
 _I am going to kill you. JW_

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me and I just ran with it... Which is hopefully a good thing. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
